Break Me
by M.R. Potter
Summary: A broken Hermione gets put back together by a well-meaning Sirius. Will she recover whole? Or are the pieces of her heart going to stay scattered? D/s dynamic, fluffy lemony oneshot written out of boredom. Enjoy!


The fire light tickled the air once, twice and then sunk into embers in the fireplace. The bottle of wine lay on its side and beside it, two glasses half-full of wine. One had plum lipstick prints on the rim.

Hermione was on the floor staring at the dying fire, trying to collect herself. It was as if a thousand suggestions were scattered around her, each of them demanding that she acknowledge them. What was she supposed to do now? She was feeling in-between and unsure.

On the couch behind her was Sirius Black. He was looking down at Hermione seated on the floor, looking at the curve of her neck and the fluff of her hair that had fallen from its tie on top of her head. She hadn't said much to him all evening, even when he had poured them both a glass of wine and settled on the couch to talk. She had owled him earlier and asked him toApparate over.

Of course he knew what that meant. It was a long-standing arrangement between them both. He would come over with some wine, they would sit and talk and then he would take her hand and lead her to the bedroom. He was usually gone before morning and life would proceed as if the night before hadn't happened. The chemistry between them was undeniable. It was as if they stopped being two separate people and became a singular entity of heat and passion, needy and wanting.

Tonight was different however. There hadn't been a single smile from her, and he couldn't seem to tease her into a better mood. She just seemed distant, cold even.

Hermione was very aware of Sirius behind her and his wonderment at her demeanour. Their arrangement had always been warm and teasing, their coupling though, she couldn't even bring herself to smile at him when he appeared at her door.

On the mantel sat an opened envelope, a flash of lavender poking out. She had received the invitation at work today. It was a wedding invitation from Oliver Wood and his intended, Parvati Patel. Hermione and Oliver had had a fiery relationship that lasted nearly three years, only to end because Hermione had moved to Spain to work as a representative of the English Ministry of Magic. Very nearly a diplomat, she liked to say of her job. The long distance had not boded well for their relationship, and it was with a broken heart that she accepted the inevitable.

It had been two years since their breakup, and then out of the blue a wedding invitation. The rest of the day was a blur, and she didn't even know how she got home or even walking to her desk to hastily scribble out a brief message for Sirius.

She didn't know what she wanted from him, just that she didn't want to be alone tonight. How she wished he would do something. She was afraid she'd shatter if she moved first.

Sirius lifted himself off the couch to sit beside her. He took in her gaze at the fire, her clenched fist on her lap and the uneven breathing. She was clearly upset about something. He raised a hand to brush her neck, a touch he knew she liked.

"Can I touch you?" he quietly asked. He saw the smallest of nods, and then he stroked down her neck to her arm. He closed his fingers around her wrist and raised her fist to his mouth. "What's wrong? You haven't spoken to me all night," he said, kissing each curled knuckle.

"Oliver's getting married. I got the invitation today."

Explains a whole lot. "Hermione, you're going to have to tell me some more. I thought you were over Oliver. You both agreed to move on," he said.

"Clearly not. I haven't seen anyone since him, with the exception of you. And even then, what we have is just sex," she bluntly said, still not looking at him. He hadn't expected a twinge in his heart, but there it was.

Well, if you looked at it, that was exactly what it was. They were friends as well, but the defining element of their relationship was sex. Never mind that she was quite a bit younger, it was nothing but proof that animal attraction did not distinguish between age or sensibilities. He was just hopeful that the soft laughs and inside jokes they had meant a little more to her than the sex did.

He brushed the comment aside. "What do you want me to say?" he asked.

Her head turned to face him, but her face was still pointed downward. He saw her fingers flex open and clench again. Her shoulder lifted in a shrug.

She really wasn't giving him anything. "Why don't I start, and you can just nod or shake your head. Then we'll figure out what to do," he suggested. Another shoulder lift.

"Do you want me to leave?"

No.

"Are you upset because Oliver is marrying someone else?"

Yes.

A pause. "Have you been with anyone else but me and Oliver in the last five years?"

No.

"Will you still let me make love to you tonight?"

Yes.

"Can I kiss you first?"

No.

He wasn't surprised. Hermione's defenses went up when she was distressed, as did her touch aversion. He could even see a giant bubble forming around her that only a fool would try to infiltrate.

The realisation stung him. She was very rarely like this with him, and he couldn't help but feel like a nameless face to her. One that she could count on to make her feel better about herself and not even have to acknowledge. She was his friend, first of all and friends pulled each other out of bad feelings.

He wanted to rail at her callousness, and chide her for being so insensitive. But the look of her slumped shoulders and look of utter helplessness broke his heart. Maybe just for tonight. Tomorrow he'd deal with it.

Sirius kissed her neck, peppered kisses on her shoulder. She sighed and turned her head away from him. He nibbled at the exposed skin and smiled a little to himself when he heard her groan.

He took her hand to help her stand and then walked them both to her room. She didn't resist, and allowed herself to be seated her on the bed and excused himself to go to the bathroom.

As Hermione sat listening to Sirius brushing his teeth, she couldn't bring herself to admit it. She wanted to use him tonight. She wanted to feel beautiful and wanted, even if at the expense of a good friend like Sirius. Hermione never missed the adoration and awe in his eyes when they he undressed her, and right now, this is what she wanted from him.

It was rude and callous, what she wanted. She should have taken this frustration and wanting out on a large tub of ice cream instead, but Sirius was so much more appealing. She should stop this now, before they regretted it.

Sirius approached her with gleaming intent and frank appraisal in his eyes. She sat a little straighter in bed, drawing her legs in front of her.

"You look wonderful love, " was the only thing he could push out of his tightening throat.

Hermione's heart thundered in her chest. She felt her defensesgo straight up; the last thing she needed for him to do now was to reach across and break through them. There were words she still needed to say, apologies she should begin to make, but there it was. The look in his eyes that told her she was beautiful and wanted, even if another had cast her aside. It took her breath away.

Sirius could feel the wall between them grow even taller. He could see the shame and regret in her eyes already, but lord help him. He wanted her so badly, and if she saw it as using him, then so be it. Better he take her than some creep at the Leaky Cauldron who would not take his time with her, to show her pleasure. To assuage her hurt and to kiss the frown lines between her eyebrows. He wanted to do all that for her tonight.

He turned her face to his to kiss her, but she turned her face away so his lips touched her cheek instead. Her eyes were averted away, almost willing him to just finish already so she could look elsewhere.

Sirius reached for the top button and started to work at undressing her. She really did have the prettiest, sun-kissed skin. He couldn't help but nuzzle at her collarbones, the dip of her breasts and the lone mole beneath. He kissed her too, worshipping her slowly. She mewed at his touch, turning herself this way and that so he didn't miss a spot. He felt her legs part to slowly wrap around his hips and her back arch. "I'm not going anywhere love," he whispered.

His hands slid under her back and lifted her towards him. All the while, his eyes were trained on her face to watch her reaction. He could see that the irises of her eyes had widened to black; there was a flush on her cheeks and her lips were parted as she struggled to take in more air. She was stunning, and he was humbled to know that he could do that to her.

His slow worship of her was brought to a screeching halt when he felt a stinging burn drag across his back, and he cried out. His first instinct was to look back and see what it had been, but then he saw Hermione's hand next to her head, still curled into a claw. She had scratched him.

"That hurt," was all he said, frowning down at her.

"Then maybe you should do it back to me," was all she said, her hand poised to scratch again.

Now he was confused. Yes, he'd known women who had gotten their kicks from physical pain. He had only obliged when he knew that they truly enjoyed themselves and when they had asked. This was Hermione though. He had never known her to demand pain from him, nor was she particularly violent in bed.

"Do it Sirius. I'm not asking," she said, looking him straight in the eye. This isn't about what you want, just do what she says. Deal with it tomorrow, the voice in his head said.

Sirius' hand moved of its own accord. He lifted Hermione so she was straddling his hips, and with as much strength as he allowed himself, clawed her back with both hands. He saw Hermione's face contort in pain, but a pleasured groan escaped her lips. "Again," she whispered in his ear.

"I want you to be rough with me tonight. Be cruel."

The breath caught in Sirius' throat. He didn't know whether he should stop or do as she asked. She had no idea how easily he could hurt her. She didn't know how delicate she was beneath his fingers and how easily he could make her bruise. But the steel in her eyes and the desperate sadness in her voice told him she could take it, however painful it would be.

He dragged his nails straight across her back and watched her arch and groan. He nuzzled her neck as an apology, but that earned him a vicious clawing from her.

"Is that the best you can do?" she taunted.

Now she was just being childish. She was baiting him into being mean, and he was starting to get irritated. He found that his hand was winding in her dark curls and pulled her head back so she was looking up at the ceiling. Her throat was exposed, every vulnerable pulse before his gaze. He sank his teeth on the side and sucked hard.

The bite hurt. It threaded into her numb conscience, the one that had taken over. She wanted to be treated roughly needed pain to forget that once upon a time, she had been in the arms of somebody who loved her and wanted to caress her into submission.

Hermione thought she had gotten over Oliver and the happiness they shared. A part of her still wished that they didn't have to break up. There were so many things she wished were different, none of them within her control.

Sirius had just bitten her again, this time taking skin between his teeth and really sinking his teeth in. It was a sharp kind of pain this time, and it was almost too much to bear. Her back arched into his chest and she tried to squirm her head away from his hand, which was still tightly grabbing her hair.

"You asked for it kitten, don't think I'm going to let you off that easily," he growled into her neck.

Suddenly Hermione found herself on her back with both of Sirius' hands on her shoulders. He was straddling her hips, his steely eyes looking straight into hers. "Not until you absolutely beg me to stop," he said.

Hermione understood, and curled her fingers around his wrist. She led his hand to her throat and whispered, "Not until I'm begging."

Sirius' fingers tightened around her throat, and he could feel her pulse beat against his palm. A jolt of power shot through him, as soon as he realised the position he was in. Hermione was gasping for breath beneath him, her hands grasping his wrist.

Sirius loosened his grip somewhat and lowered his face down to hers. His breath brushed over her lips. "You are mine to do as I want, and you are going to take what I give you. Any insolence from you will be punished. I will decide when you get to cum."

"You will not look me in the eye, nor will you protest any orders that I give you. You will do as I say, when I say."

And as a final instruction, he bent even lower to speak straight into her ear. "Your safe word is 'beechwood'."

Hermione relaxed a little under his restraining hand. This was not what she had planned. This was not even what she wanted. But somehow, possibly through sheer annoyance, Sirius had turned the tables on her and taken over.

She was tired. Tired of being in denial about her hurt over Oliver. Tired of lying to herself every morning by saying that she was a happier woman single. She wanted to articulate her desire for intimacy but without breaking the glossy sheen of independence she had so carefully built around herself.

Sirius always seemed to know how to appease her though. From the soulful way he looked into her eyes when he stroked her face to the quiet way he held her through an orgasm. Despite her loud protests that she didn't need a man to make her happy, he could hear that she was lonely.

Tonight, she didn't want to be in control. But she didn't want to break herself to give it up.

"Do I make myself clear? You may say yes," he said.

Her lips formed the words, but she had to squeeze her voice out through the tightness of her throat. "Yes Sirius."

"Good girl."

Sirius released her and made her sit up. He sat in front of her with his legs cradling her body.

"All you have to do is sit perfectly still and do not move. Your only words will be 'Yes Sirius' and 'No Sirius'. Do I make myself clear?" he asked.

"Yes Sirius."

Sirius touched his lips to her cheek to whisper into her ear. "Hermione I don't want to hurt you. Your ego's taken a beating. Your body doesn't need it either."

He kissed the side of her neck, mouthing the warm skin there. He could hear her small gasp of breath, but tried to hold back a smile. He could see the angry red mark where he had bitten her, and he tried to soothe it with kisses. "You deserve to feel good," he continued, now running his hands up and down her sides. He could feel her arch towards him, and he drew her body close.

"May I kiss you Hermione?"

"No, Sirius."

Nonplussed, he kissed her hair, her cheek and her neck again. "I know you're upset about Oliver, but I want you to listen to me. It's been years since you saw each other. I understand you're upset, but I want you to know something," he began.

Sirius took her chin and forced her face up to look into her eyes. "Oliver is not the last man who will love you."

That touched Hermione's heart more than she ever wanted to admit. Sirius could see Hermione's lips part to form words, but she caught herself in time and stayed quiet. It took all of Sirius' self-control not to kiss her right then, but he knew that he had to ease her into it.

"Oliver is not the last man to hold you at night and to wake up with you in his arms. He is not going to be the only one who will make you happy."

He kissed the side of her neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath his lips. He heard her broken sigh, just veering on the edge of tears. "Can I make love to you Hermione?" Sirius asked, sighing into her skin.

"Yes Sirius," was the answer he got.

Lifting his head, he kissed her cheek lightly. His hands stroked up and down her back, feeling the grooves where his nails scratched her. He traced a line from her back, up her shoulders and down to her wrists where he captured them. Slowly, he pushed her onto her back and kissed her other cheek.

"You will not push me away. You will not lock me out. Just say your safe word and I will get up and leave. Do I make myself clear?" he asked her, looking right into her eyes. He could see the conflict in them, clearer than ever. He could see tears that had streaked down and dried up, but the pride in her would not let her cry.

"Yes Sirius."

He kissed her neck again, and littered a few more down her chest. He tentatively released her wrists, not missing that she kept them firmly planted on the mattress. "You are so beautiful Hermione. It would be such a shame to lock yourself away because you're convinced that you only had one chance at happiness," he said to her.

There was a point where Sirius felt like he was committing a selfless act by taking control like this. He justified his fastidious care of her by saying that she was a wounded soul that needed healing. He was just trying to make her feel better, he said.

But no, the reasonable part of him said that he was being quite the opposite. He was being selfish, taking advantage of her sadness and vulnerability. He knew how broken she was, and the pieces that lay scattered were his to covet and keep. Hermione was one of a kind, and he was not going to let her slip through his fingers. He wanted her, but he knew she deserved more.

He kissed her again, this time lingering over her cheek. He felt her twist slightly but it wasn't with as much of the fiery ardour of a few moments ago. He treated each little part of her to a kiss; the dip between her nose and upper lip, the little dimple in her chin, the hollow beneath her neck. No spot was too insignificant for him to touch. He needed her to know that all of her was perfect. He would spend his life worshipping every little inch of her skin, for as long as it would take her to realise how perfect she was.

Sirius slid his hands underneath her back and arched her body towards his mouth. "Repeat after me kitten."

"I am beautiful," he started. "I am kind. I am an intelligent woman,"

Hermione could barely hear him over all the static in her head. She was overwhelmed by the attention Sirius was giving her, her own hurt forgetting to surface every time his tongue touched her skin.

"I am beautiful. I am kind. I am an intelligent woman," she ground out, unsure of what he was planning.

"Good," Sirius smiled, rewarding her with a swirl of his tongue into her navel. "I am a treasure, I am a prize and I am worth loving. Say it in that order," he commanded, with the lightest of breaths.

She struggled to form the words. "I am a treasure, I am worth loving - " she began when she felt a hard slap on the side of her leg.

"Wrong. Start over," Sirius said, his hand poised to swat again. It was a game, she understood. One where she had to remember what he said, making sure they would stick. In a way, he was making her acknowledge her own worth, even if she had blocked it out of her memory a long time ago.

"I'm sorry Sirius. I am a prize - "

SMACK.

That had stung. She could feel the prick of tears in her eyes, both at her mistake and at how hard he had hit her. "Concentrate. I know you can do it," Sirius told her. His eyes watched her face, taking in every little twitch and the sheen of tears threatening to spill.

Mustering all of her focus, she started. "I am a treasure, I am a prize and I am worth loving," she breathed out. All her muscles were tense from waiting; what would he do, now that she had gotten it all right?

"Say them all together. I am beautiful, I am kind..." he began.

With a deep breath, she continued. "I am an intelligent woman. I am a treasure, I am a prize and I am worth loving."

The last word cracked out of her throat. Tears had started to trickle down her face; for so long she had denied herself the knowledge that she was someone worth loving. Nobody else saw the fine cracks beneath her surface. Every day that she wasn't with Oliver only compounded what she felt about herself, and so she had come to believe this pathetic and indulgent illusion.

Sirius, ever-attentive Sirius, kissed the tears off her face. "Well done my darling. You are all of these things and more. Do not ever forget them."

"Yes Sirius," Hermione breathed out. Her arms ached to hold him to her, to beg him not to ever let her forget. She settled with turning her face towards his instead. Her lips parted to speak, but she caught herself.

"Tell me darling. What do you want to say?" Sirius asked.

"Kiss me, please," she whispered, entreated.

He did not need to be told twice. The careful care he took with her snapped and he swooped in to kiss her. It was rough, and he checked himself immediately. He gentled, and slowly introduced his tongue. Hermione tasted wonderful, like warmth and vulnerability. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her. Sirius used his mouth to say how much he appreciated her, and how much more he wanted from her.

Sirius freed himself from the rest of his clothing, only pausing to pull off errant pieces of clothing. When they were both bare, he stopped to take a look at them both. He saw himself, naked and sweaty, a primal being recognising its mate. In Hermione, he saw an otherwordly beauty, and that she was all his.

He stroked his fingers up between her thighs, and felt the wetness that was leaking down them. "Gods Hermione, you're dripping wet," he said, almost reverently.

She responded by parting her thighs. "I want to taste you. Dammit, I am going to taste you!" Sirius said, bending down to take her humming clit in his mouth. He used his tongue and fingers to pleasure her, stroking the soft folds and feeling the muscles clench down. And just when she was balanced on the very edge of orgasm, he stopped. Hermione, forgetting herself, let out a whimper.

"No Hermione. I get to decide when you cum. It isn't now," was all that Sirius said.

Turning her over so she was on her stomach, Sirius positioned himself between her thighs. He drew her legs closed, so his cock was tightly cradled between her legs. "Look up at me Hermione," he said. Her head tilted up, and he could see himself reflected in her wanting eyes. He pushed himself in, groaning as he felt her warm tightness envelop him. With both her legs closed, she was warm and so tight.

"Tell me how I feel," he commanded, kissing her forehead.

"Hot. And hard. Gods Sirius, more, please..."she begged.

"Tell me what you are again," he said, thrusting once. Hermione felt him graze her most tender spot, and right then she spasmed around him.

"I am beautiful, I am kind, I am an intelligent woman," Hermione ground out, feeling his erection brush that spot again and again. Any more, and she would be careening off that precarious edge.

"What else?"

"I am a treasure, I am a prize and I am worth loving," she finished. Sirius didn't allow her a moment's respite. "Good girl," he said. He took her by the hips and began pumping furiously into her. He pulled her hips up so he could get deeper inside her. Hermione responded by meeting him thrust for thrust, arching her body so he could hit that spot inside of her. Her fingers were claws against the mattress, as she struggled to keep quiet.

"Sirius, please, can I cum?" she begged. She was so close, so very close...

"Just a little more darling, you can do it," he replied. He wanted to savour her pleasure, and feel what it was doing to her.

In a moment's flash, he had her on her back with her legs on his shoulders. He was now looking into her eyes, seeing how they widened with every thrust. "Who do you belong to now?" he asked.

"You, only you Sirius," she cried out, trying to hold back her own orgasm.

"Cum for me kitten," Sirius said, closing his eyes and driving into her.

It was a moment designed by a higher power. He felt Hermione orgasm first, her entire body clenching at his. She was so warm and so tight, and so damned beautiful. Her eyes were closed and she was holding on to the sheets as if they were her only anchor in the storm. Sirius watched, enthralled and cried out when he reached his own peak.

After the last aftershock and contraction had passed, they were both breathing heavily in bed. Hermione had her face turned away from his, and she was silent. Sirius' hand crept across to hold hers. "Hermione, are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine Sirius," was her reply. She sounded tired, drained.

Broken.

He sobered, and pulled her close. He had broken her, yes. Broken her out of the illusion that she was unlovable. And with all the pieces of her that were scattered, he vowed to put them back together into something beautiful and lasting.

And his, only his.

END

A/N: This story took quite a while to finish! This is dedicated to S, without whom I never would have understood what it is like to confront my insecurities and be held and loved through it all.


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